


high horse

by skateboardsound



Category: NCT (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Humor, M/M, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-18
Updated: 2019-07-18
Packaged: 2020-06-28 00:17:14
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,614
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19800763
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/skateboardsound/pseuds/skateboardsound
Summary: Taeyong's not a vengeful person, but at the very least his ex deserves to get his tires slashed. His ex's roommate seems to agree.





	high horse

**Author's Note:**

> if i get investigated by the NSA for the research i did for this….at least it was for a noble cause. thanks for the fun prompt!!

It starts like this:

Taeyong’s boyfriend had been calling off their date nights for a whole week because of an important exam so Taeyong, being the caring boyfriend that he was, had decided to cook his boyfriend a surprise meal. He’d borrowed the spare key hidden in the planter outside and walked into the apartment, arms full of groceries. Sex really does have a specific cadence, but Taeyong had foolishly written it off as a movie playing from the other room and walked in anyway, only to discover his boyfriend bending someone over the kicthen counter. First came the distinct sound of an orgasm, and then of groceries meeting tile, and then the door slamming behind him as he ran out.

It’s been a month since then. In that time, he hasn't heard a word from his ex-boyfriend since. To say that Taeyong has been handling the breakup well would be a lie.

Now he’s watching _The Notebook_ for the third time that week and trying to convince himself that romance is not dead. Which is why when Johnny opens his door without knocking, interrupting his favorite scene, he’s less than thrilled.

“Taeyongie!” Johnny calls from the doorway.

Taeyong burrows further into his blanket. “Go away.”

“Nope!” Johnny walks in, and then jumps onto his legs. “Pay attention to me!”

“Dude! You’re blocking the screen. Move your scrawny ass.”

“My ass is juicy and you know it,” Johnny says. He holds out his phone to Taeyong. “Can you just emerge from your blanket burrito for like one minute and read what’s on my phone please?”

“My head is out which makes it a blanket enchilada, actually.”

Johnny isn’t fazed. “Are you done, smartass?”

Taeyong sighs, just to make sure Johnny knows exactly how much this is inconveniencing him, and reads the text on the phone in front of him. He immediately regrets it.

_Calling all Rode-HOES! Are you a lone ranger looking for your pardner?_

Taeyong turns to Johnny, incredulous. “What the _fuck_ is this?”

Johnny just laughs. “Keep reading.”

Taeyong scans the rest of the pun-addled paragraph with disdain.

_WRANGLE that WAGON over to the Alpha Sig Saloon! Whether you prefer to ride or control the reigns, you’re sure to have a WILD time! Friday 10:00. Mares are free, Stallions $10 at door._

Taeyong looks up at Johnny’s expectant face. “A party invite?”

“Not _just_ a party, dude. A _cowboy-_ themed party.”

Taeyong scoffs. “You say that like it makes it better, somehow.”

“It does!” Johnny insists. “You know what’s better than getting drunk? Getting drunk in a cowboy hat.”

“I’m pretty sure that’s not a universal feeling.”

“Alright, sure. But it’ll be fun! Ironically!” When Taeyong doesn’t react, Johnny whines. “Come on. I’ll pay your cover.”

“Just my cover?”

Johnny rolls his eyes. “Fine. _And_ I’ll buy the pre-game drinks.”

Taeyong averts his eyes. “I dunno, man. I’m not really in the mood to go out after—you know.”

Johnny had been the first person to see him ‘after’ so it goes without saying that yes, he does in fact know.

“I get it. And if you really don’t wanna go out I’ll respect that,” Johnny says, mouth turned down in sympathy. “But you’re making yourself more miserable by cooping up in here. You need to get some fresh air. Meet some new people and forget all about that dickhead. And don’t you think it would be hilarious to get drunk and laugh at assholes wearing cowboy boots?”

Taeyong considers this. It’s not the worst idea he’s ever heard. “And if I want to leave after half an hour?”

“You can leave whenever you want,” Johnny assures him. “Just come for a little bit.”

If there’s something Taeyong can’t resist, it’s Johnny’s puppy-dog eyes and the promise of alcohol. He sighs, giving in with reluctance.

 _“Fine._ But you’re buying all my drinks like you promised.”

Johnny grins. “Yes! I promise. And I won’t even say anything if you wear assless chaps like I know you want to.”

Johnny ducks out of his room before Taeyong’s pillow can hit its target.

It’s ten o’clock, there’s country music blaring loud enough to puncture his eardrums, and Taeyong is fairly smashed. Johnny went through with his promise of buying the pregame drinks, which Taeyong had taken full advantage of, and also paying his cover fee, and then had pretty much immediately disappeared into the crowd of gyrating cowboys, leaving Taeyong to fend for himself with only Jack Daniels for company. He wandered around looking for Johnny on the main level for a while, but then Cotton-Eyed Joe had come on and Taeyong narrowly avoided getting roped into square dancing, sprinting upstairs to avoid the chaos.

By some miracle he ends up running into someone else he knows in the middle of this cowboy Hell, so now he’s drunk, upset at Johnny, and sort of yelling over the incredibly loud country music at Jaehyun who looks like he isn’t nearly drunk enough for this. He’s moved on from telling the story in excruciating detail of walking in on his ex sleeping with someone else and is now cursing Johnny’s family name a few generations into the future.

“Seriously, who does he think he is?” Taeyong rants. “He made me come to this awful party and now he’s _ditching_ me? He blackmailed me into wearing this dumb hat.”

Jaehyun looks pained. “Maybe he’s in line for the bathroom?”

“He’s in line to catch these hands,” Taeyong mutters, taking a long gulp from his flask. “Seriously. Who invites someone to a party like this and ditches them?”

“Someone who’s too embarrassed to admit he likes country music and is trying to hide it,” Jaehyung jokes. It gets a smile out of Taeyong.

“He did seem a little too excited to only be here ‘ironically’.”

“Johnny’s a filthy liar,” Jaehyun agrees. “So let’s forget about him and your ex-boyfriend and make fun of everyone here instead.”

At the mention of his ex, Taeyong slumps.

“Oh boy,” says Jaehyun. He holds up an arm and makes a ‘come hither’ gesture. “I’m sorry. Come here, Taeyong.”

Taeyong scooches closer and lets Jaehyung rest his arm around his shoulder, drawing him close into his body heat. Hugging Jaehyun is like hugging a giant teddy bear. Taeyong lets Jaehyung run fingers through his hair, even though he usually hates anyone doing that.

“Is that why you’re so upset at Johnny?” Jaehyun asks. “Because you’re still upset at Junseo?”

“No. Well, sort of,” Taeyong relents. “I just feel—crazy. I haven’t even talked to him after I walked in on him. I just ran out of there, and he didn’t even care enough to call. I thought he’d at least text and try to apologize or win me back—not that I would’ve taken him back, don’t look at me like that—but nothing. Nothing even close to closure. And now I don’t know what to do! Like, I’m so full of all these horrible feelings. I just need to go... _do_ something.”

“Something like...going home and sleeping it off?” Jaehyun asks, tone hopeful.

“Nah, man. Something like storming into his apartment and giving him a piece of my mind.”

“Oh God.” Jaehyun visibly winces. “Where did you say Johnny was again?”

Taeyong takes another swig from his flask. “Who cares?”

Jaehyung frowns. “Look, Taeyong. You’re a great guy who didn’t deserve to be treated like that, and you have the right to be upset by this, but Junseo is an asshole. At this point he’s not going to apologize and seeing him again isn’t going to make you feel any better.”

Taeyong stares at him for a moment, and then shakes his head, sighing. “I guess you’re right. Telling him off wouldn’t help.”

“Exactly,” Jaehyun nods encouragingly. “Now let’s—”

“I need to do something more drastic,” Taeyong says, alight with renewed vigor. “Something worse than just yelling at him.”

Jaehyun slumps over, resting his head in his palm. “What did I do to deserve this?”

“Do you think I can aim well enough to egg his apartment?” Taeyong asks. “He lives on the 14th floor of the complex.”

“I’ve seen you play darts before, so no.” Jaehyun sighs. “Can you at least try to forget him? Just for tonight? It’d be nice to see you have fun again. I’ve missed seeing you at parties.”

It’s true that Taeyong has been skipping out on more social obligations than usual. His friends have been understanding about it, but he could probably make more of an effort to seek them out instead of staying inside and making himself miserable.

“Okay,” Taeyong agrees. “I won’t mention him for the rest of the night.”

“That’s the spirit!”

Jaehyun holds his drink out and Taeyong clinks his flask against it lightly.

“To roasting Johnny,” Jaehyun says, eyes crinkling as he smiles.

Just as quickly as Taeyong’s spirits are newly lifted, the song changes downstairs and the room fills up with a familiar tune. As soon as he hears the first guitar riff Taeyong freezes.

Jaehyun eyes him warily. “Isn’t this…?”

“Carrie Underwood’s _Before He Cheats?”_ Taeyong groans. “Yes. Yes, it is. Even the universe doesn’t let me forget. It’s bad enough I’m being forced to listen to country music all night.”

“You’re taking it the wrong way.” Jaehyun suggests. “Maybe it’s a sign.”

“A sign that what? That I need to go slash my ex-boyfriend’s tires?” Taeyong drones sarcastically.

He says it as a joke, but it’s the combination of alcohol and a month of wallowing in his misery that produces the thought. The image of Junseo’s big, ugly SUV sinks into his brain and the thought sprouts before common sense can kill it like sober Taeyong might have wanted it to. Jaehyun is saying something to him but Taeyong can’t concentrate. All he can think about is how good it would feel to swing a baseball bat around like Beyonce in _Lemonade_ and smash a window or two. Or four.

Suddenly, this doesn’t seem like such a dumb idea. Maybe this is exactly what he needs to move on.

He stands up slowly, catching Jaehyun’s eyes immediately.

“Taeyong,” Jaehyun says, slow and careful like he’s interacting with a wild animal. “What are you doing?”

Taeyong shrugs, going for nonchalance, before making a beeline from the balcony to the stairwell down the hall. He hears Jaehyun scramble to catch up with him.

“Taeyong!” he calls. “Where are you rushing off to?”

“I have to go feed my cat,” Taeyong calls back, not pausing to look over his shoulder.

“What cat?” Jaehyun calls after him. “Hey! _Taeyong!_ What cat? I’m calling Johnny!” 

Taeyong races down the stairs, narrowly avoiding knocking into a couple making out in matching flannels. He stops only in the kitchen and makes a call to the room.

“I need to shotgun a beer. It’s an emergency. Anyone got a switchblade I could borrow?”

His deadly serious tone goes unnoticed, or at the very least unacknowledged. There’s a chorus of cheering and laughter.

“You got it, bro!”

Three frat boys offer up their switchblades, and Taeyong is careful to take it from the one who looks drunkest. The less likely he is to remember his face, the better. Nobody cares to see him slip out of the room, and there’s still no sign of Johnny as Taeyong slips out the front door. Another careful look over his shoulder shows that there’s no sign of Jaehyun either, which means the coast is clear.

As much as he’s tried to forget, the directions to Junseo’s apartment are stuck in his brain. By all rights the cool night air should be working to sober him up, but the sight of familiar streets only brings back memories, making his head spin. Memories of Junseo walking him home after their first date, of the place they’d shared their first kiss, the tree where they’d drunkenly carved their initials into a heart. Taeyong stares at the “T + J” etched deep into the bark and picks up his pace.

By the time Taeyong steps in front of the familiar apartment complex, he’s more sure than anything that he’s ready to do it. The light is off from outside, which is a good sign. Junseo’s business fraternity has meetings every friday night which means it should be another hour or so until Junseo walks back. His ostentatious black Range Rover is parked out in front, the back foot of it parked over the yellow fire hydrant line like he always has it to keep it out of the sun.

“Asshole,” Taeyong mutters.

The street is relatively empty, save for background noise from some of the surrounding apartments. Still, Taeyong waits until he’s absolutely sure that the last person across the street has disappeared from view before walking quietly across. The parking spot is fairly secluded and dark, thankfully, so Taeyong pops a squat on the curb between the car and the planter on the sidewalk.

As mentally ready as Taeyong is, there’s still something daunting about actually staring at the car itself. Carrie hadn’t exactly been very clear about how to slash the tires. Taeyong stares at the switchblade and wonders if he shouldn’t watch a YouTube video on this first or something. 

“You know what? Fuck it,” Taeyong says under his breath, as he often does before making life-altering mistakes, and picks up the switchblade, holding it against the side of the tire which seems to be the spot with the least resistance.

“You’re doing it wrong.”

Taeyong’s hand freezes around his switchblade. The voice is vaguely familiar, and when he turns around his stomach drops as he realizes why. Standing about three feet away from him with a blank look on his face is Kim Doyoung. Up until now Taeyong had known him as the guy who used to walk in on him and his boyfriend making out in the living room. Now he knows him as the guy who’s going to get him arrested. He feels sober almost immediately and realizes how suspicious he must look—drunkenly splayed out on the ground with a knife in one hand and a cowboy hat on, in front of his ex’s roommate.

Taeyong tries for casual. “Uh, hey. Doyoung, right?”

“Taeyong. It’s been a while.” Doyoung’s eyes flit up. His eyebrows raise. “Howdy.”

“This isn’t what it looks like,” Taeyong starts.

“It looks like you’re trying to slash my roommate’s tires.” Doyoung’s eyes drift over to Taeyong’s hand around the knife. “Badly.”

“That’s not what I’m doing,” Taeyong lies.

“Okay then,” Doyoung drawls. “What _are_ you doing?”

Taeyong smiles fakely. “It’s funny you should ask that.”

Doyoung stares at Taeyong. Taeyong stares back. A good five seconds pass.

Doyoung lifts an eyebrow. “Usually people start talking after they say that.”

Taeyong laughs nervously. “Right. Of course. So, I was just walking home, you know, like normal people do.”

“Good start,” says Doyoung.

Taeyong ignores the dig. “And as I was walking my switchblade falls out of my pocket. Crazy, right?”

“Crazy,” Doyoung deadpans.

“Well, anyway, I went to pick it up and while I was down here I happened to look up and see how beautiful the stars were tonight.” Doyoung looks up and Taeyong follows his gaze. Fog hangs low on the apartment complexes surrounding them. “Anyway,” Taeyong continues hastily. “I decided to take a break.”

“On the ground,” Doyoung says. Taeyong nods. “Which just so happens to be by your ex-boyfriend’s car.”

“Yes.”

“And the reason your switchblade was against the tire is…?”

“Killing a spider.” At Doyoung’s blank look, Taeyong tries for an innocent smile. It doesn’t seem to faze him.

“Right.” Doyoung finally says, nodding. “Well, thank you for the explanation Taeyong. That was very enlightening. I just have one question.”

“Sure. What?”

“How dumb do you think I am?”

Taeyong’s smile freezes on his face. He’s never gotten the impression that Doyoung was dumb from their limited interactions with each other, but he was kind of hoping that he wouldn’t care enough to look too far into Taeyong’s explanation.

“If I had thought you were dumb, which I didn’t, obviously,” Taeyong clarifies, desperately. “It’s only because someone as handsome as you couldn’t possibly possess both beauty _and_ brains.”

At that, the serious expression on Doyoung’s face finally gives way to a smile and Taeyong realizes with a start that he’s never seen him do that before. To be fair, they usually exchanged at most a cursory greeting, and a lot of the time Taeyong was otherwise occupied. The most they’d spoken were the few times Taeyong had woken up to cook breakfast before retreating back into Junseo’s bedroom. 

“Wow,” Doyoung says through his grin. “You’re really laying it on thick. I bet you’re the type that’s good at talking yourself out of speeding tickets.”

“I’ve never been pulled over for speeding,” Taeyong feels the need to clarify.

“A parking ticket, then,” Doyoung accuses. Taeyong bites his cheek and looks away. _“Ha!_ I knew it.”

Taeyong shifts awkwardly. “Does that really matter right now?”

“Guess not,” Doyoung says, but there’s clearly something still on his mind because he keeps staring at Taeyong despite the long minute that passes by.

“Is there something you need?” Taeyong grits out through a fake smile, hoping Doyoung will take the hint and go.

“Nope!” Doyoung exclaims, smile still on his face. “I’m just glad to hear you’re not slashing my roommate’s tires. It’d be pretty embarrassing to be trying to slash through a tire like that.”

Taeyong’s fake smile is frozen on his face. He glances from his switchblade, to the tire, and then back up to Doyoung. The smile on Doyoung’s face is distinctly smug now.

“I’m glad you see it my way,” Taeyong grits out through his fake smile. “But, out of curiosity, what _would_ be the best way to slash tires? If someone were trying to do that?”

“Well, if you were trying to _actually_ slash his tires,” Doyoung starts, before smiling smugly down at Taeyong again. “Hypothetically, of course, you’d know that it’s much more effective to use a sharp, pointy object than a flat blade.”

Taeyong pockets the switchblade surreptitiously. “That _is_ interesting! If I end up seeing somebody doing that I’ll pass that information along.”

He’s hoping Doyoung will either walk away or mercy kill him on the spot, but it appears that unfortunately neither of those are on the agenda tonight because Doyoung just keeps talking instead.

“That person might also be interested in knowing,” Doyoung is saying, and then suddenly he’s crouching down next to Taeyong. “That if somebody’s tires are obviously slashed, tire replacement might be covered under comprehensive insurance. So even if you end up getting away with it, he might not have to pay anything.”

Taeyong blinks at Doyoung in confusion. “I thought that was only if all four tires were slashed.”

“That’s just a myth.”

“Oh.” Taeyong’s adrenaline rush finally starts crashing and reality sets in. He doesn’t know shit about slashing tires, and now the last thing he’ll hear before he spends his life in jail is a lecture on car insurance. Taeyong stands up, holding up his hands in surrender. “Alright, I give up. Are you going to call the cops on me or what? Is this some sort of sadistic stalling tactic until the police show up to arrest me?”

Doyoung rolls his eyes. “I didn’t call the cops.”

“Okay…” Taeyong draws out. “But are you _going_ to call them?”

Doyoung looks pensive, stroking his chin for effect.

“Come on, man,” Taeyong whines. “At least tell me if I should make a break for it or not.”

“Sorry, you’re just so easy to rile up,” Doyoung says, finally dropping the contemplative look for a smile. But just as quickly his expression fades into something more serious. “Look, for the entire first week we lived together, Junseo called me ‘Boyoung’. No matter how many times I ask him not to he leaves his dried contacts on the ground everywhere and blasts EDM at 3 a.m. while I’m trying to sleep. Whenever he forgets his towel in the bathroom he’ll use mine and not care to tell me. And I’m pretty sure he used my toothbrush once to clean the sink.”

Junseo had always been inconsiderate and Taeyong used to struggle with knowing whether or not it was intentional. After walking in on him Junseo’s shiny veneer had worn off, revealing so much in hindsight he hadn’t realized, or had ignored, before. “He’s a dick.”

“A _huge_ dick,” Doyoung agrees. “So, to answer your question, no I’m not going to call the cops. In fact, I’m going to keep watch while you slash that fucker’s tires as revenge for all the times he ‘forgot’,”— Doyoung emphasizes this with finger quotes—“to tell me you were coming over and I had to hide in my room or walk in on you two in the living room.”

“Oh. Sorry.” Taeyong hadn’t known that. He flushes, trying to picture how many times that might have happened. “He always told me you were out when I’d ask where you were.”

“I figured,” Doyoung says, averting his eyes. “You were pretty, uh, loud.”

“Oh, _god.”_ Taeyong covers his face with one hand and holds out the switchblade with the other. “Here.”

“What?”

“Kill me,” Taeyong pleads.

He feels Doyoung take the blade from his hand and the drunk part of his brain actually thinks for one dumb second that he’s really going to do it. Instead, when he peeks between his fingers, Doyoung is looking the switchblade over in his hands.

“I would never let you off that easy,” Doyoung jokes. He keeps turning the handle around in his hand and Taeyong does his best not to let his mind wander. “This is what you were planning on using?”

“Don’t judge me.” Taeyong pouts. “This wasn’t exactly something I planned ahead of time.”

Doyoung smirks. “I can tell.”

“Shut up,” Taeyong can’t help but whine. “What was I supposed to do?”

“Research?” Doyoung mocks. “Although I’ll give you props for coming here with a blade at all. Have to say, though, you don’t seem like the type to have a switchblade with—” Doyoung pauses to examine the switchblade in his hand. “—women in bikinis on the handle.”

Taeyong covers his face with his hands again. He almost wishes the police would show up to spare him the embarrassment. “I stole it from a frat boy.”

Doyoung laughs. “That checks out.” He holds the switchblade back for Taeyong to take. Taeyong reaches out to grab it, but his hand pauses mid-air. Doyoung frowns. “You’re not going to do it?”

Taeyong shakes his head. “I think we’ve established that I don’t know what the fuck I’m doing.”

“That didn’t stop you before.”

“It was a lot easier to do when I didn’t think anyone was watching me.”

“I can look away if that helps. Or,” Doyoung suggests. “I can just talk you through it.”

Taeyong searches his face for any signs of deception, but all appearances suggest that Doyoung’s offer is genuine. Doyoung holds out the switchblade once again, and this time Taeyong accepts it.

“Okay,” Taeyong agrees cautiously. “Let’s say that I’m game. What would you suggest?”

“Well, the smartest way to do it is to poke a small hole in one of the tires. It’ll take a while to deflate but it won’t be as difficult to break through and he won’t be able to identify when it happened, or even that it was intentional,” Doyoung explains. “But I’m guessing it’s too much to ask that you have a screwdriver on you right now?”

Taeyong gestures at himself, toolbox conspicuously missing. “Believe it or not, I don’t carry a screwdriver around with me at all times just in case I need to slash someone’s tires.”

“Of course not.” Doyoung smirks. “You’d run out of room for your lasso.”

“Oh, fuck off!” Taeyong flushes, flinging his cowboy hat onto the curb. “It was for a party.”

Doyoung bends down to pick up the discarded cowboy hat and flicks some of the dirt off of it. He stares consideringly at Taeyong for a long moment before pushing the hat back onto his head, brim pushing the front strands of his hair over his eyes.

“I’m just messing with you. It’s cute.”

Taeyong’s immediately glad that the hat is blocking his face from view because he has no idea how to control his expression then. His mind is still reeling when Doyoung starts talking again.

“It’s still possible to do with a switchblade, but it’s going to be a lot harder to break through the rubber. You sort of have to saw at it to cut through.”

“How do you even know all this?” Taeyong mumbles.

Doyoung shrugs. “I like to keep myself informed.”

“You do realize that when people say stuff like that they mean like, current events, right?”

Doyoung stares pointedly at Taeyong’s switchblade, then at the tire. “It’s seems pretty relevant to the event happening currently.”

Taeyong kneels back down on the ground. He places a hand on the tire to feel the rubber, and it does feel a lot thicker than he was expecting.

“You’re sure this is possible?” Taeyong asks, craning his neck to see Doyoung.

Doyoung nods. “I’ve seen it done before. And in case you’re wondering, the coast is clear whenever you’re done stalling.”

“Okay, okay.” Taeyong takes in a deep breath. The hand holding the switchblade is shaking slightly, although that might be adrenaline more than anything else. Before he can question it anymore, he brings his wrist down in one sharp, quick movement towards the tire. The bounces off the tire, puncturing nothing.

“Smooth,” comes the amused response from above.

“Shut up.” Taeyong flushes. “It’s the alcohol.”

“Suuure.”

Taeyong ignores Doyoung’s commentary and takes another deep breath. This time, he feels the switchblade make an impact into the rubber.

“Okay, that’s it! Push!” Doyoung whisper-yells into his ear.

Taeyong flushes from the proximity. “I’m deflating a tire, not giving birth.”

The rubber is thick, even with the blade partially pierced through it. Taeyong’s upper arm strength isn’t exactly at the level he wishes it was at, which becomes more abundantly clear the longer he tries to saw through the tire. A sudden warmth hits him and Taeyong registers a second later that it’s because Doyoung has covered his hand with his own.

The movement is almost gentle when Doyoung helps pull his hand back, sawing through the rubber with a flick of their wrists. Air gushes out of the opening loudly and the tire empties quicker than he’d expected it to.

“Shit!” Taeyong yelps, only to be shushed by Doyoung a second later.

Doyoung lets go of his hand and Taeyong stumbles back at the loss of contact, falling onto his curb inelegantly.

“So?” Doyoung asks. “How does it feel?”

It’s only when Doyoung asks the question that Taeyong realizes he’s smiling. 

“Fucking amazing,” Taeyong says. “Let’s do one more.”

The second tire is a lot easier to cut into than the first, especially with Doyoung’s stable hand gripping his again and guiding it with ease. Doyoung’s chest is pressed up against Taeyong’s back. Even when the tire empties out, Taeyong doesn’t pull back until Doyoung does, just to feel the heat for a moment longer.

They sit on the grass behind the curb to examine their work.

Taeyong tilts his head. “I feel like it’s missing one thing.”

He unsheathes the switchblade again as he stands, this time scraping the sharp metal against the car doors, engraving a long line into the side of the car inch by inch. He almost stops there, but carving this reminds him of the time he and Junseo had carved their initials into the tree, so he retraces the line an inch above, this time being sure to make it as thick and as jagged as possible. Again, and then again once more.

Finally he steps back, following Doyoung to the sidewalk to take it all in from afar. “Do you think he’ll notice?”

Doyoung laughs breathlessly. “He better. It’s a work of art.”

And it really is. The uneven lines tell a story, one that Taeyong might be better at describing if he were more of an artist. The intent is enough, though. Taeyong doesn’t need to carve his initials into this project to sign his name. It’s all there in the way the lines cut into each other.

“Hey, Taeyong,” Doyoung whispers suddenly. He places a hand on Taeyong’s shoulder. 

Taeong’s head is still spinning with the satisfaction of what he’s done, and Doyoung’s sudden whispering doesn’t help to calm him down. “Wha—”

Before Taeyong can finish speaking, Doyoung reaches out with both hands and promptly pushes him into the bush behind the sidewalk, the one in front of the apartment complex. He lands about as gracelessly as one could expect, only his cowboy hat cushioning his head from the impact.

“What the fuck?” he hisses.

“Shut up!” Doyoung whispers back. “Stay down. I think Junseo’s coming this way.”

Taeyong freezes, obeying immediately, and lies as still as he can with dirt clumps and god knows what else digging into his back. He waits for Doyoung to join him in the bush but it never happens. As quietly as he can, Taeyong maneuvers himself so he can see through the gaps in the leaves. Sure enough, Junseo is approaching down the sidewalk. At least, Taeyong assumes it’s him. All he can see from this angle is a pair of legs.

“Doyoung? What are you doing out here?”

Taeyong’s heart jolts in his chest. It’s a voice he hasn’t heard in a month.

“Someone kept pressing our buzzer so I went outside to check it out,” Doyoung is saying. 

“Did you—what the _fuck?_ My car!”

“What?” 

“What do you mean ‘what’?” Junseo is shouting now. “Just look at it!”

Taeyong’s glad he’s out of sight because there’s no way he would’ve been able to hide his triumphant glee had he been out there with Doyoung. In their relationship Junseo had always been the one in control. He liked to put up a front for Taeyong to make himself look strong. He’s never heard him sound as frazzled as he does now. It’s a sound he could listen to all day.

“Whoa.” Doyoung this time. “Someone really did a number on it.”

 _Yes,_ Taeyong thinks, giddy with pride. _I did._

Through the bushes Taeyong can see Junseo pacing back and forth in front of the car. “Fuck! I just got this repainted!”

Junseo kneels down to check out the tire damage, swearing under his breath, and Taeyong’s heart once again pounds in his chest. His hair is a lot shorter than the last time he’d seen him. It’s a relief that his hiding place obscures everything so well, because now that Taeyong hears his voice he knows that Jaehyun was right. Seeing him again wouldn’t have been a good idea. The bitterness and rage he feels is so overwhelming that he wouldn’t have been able to properly say what he wanted to.

Hearing Doyoung play dumb for him, however, is better revenge than he could’ve imagined.

“Did you see anybody when you got out here?” Junseo is asking.

“It was too dark to really get a good look, but there was a dude running down the street.”

“What did he look like? Tall, sort of muscular?” Junseo’s description gives Taeyong pause. Although he’s not short, and years of dance have kept him from lacking any muscle, nobody would see his frame and call him ‘tall, sort of muscular’. “Dark hair?”

With as little movement as he can, Taeyong tugs a strand of his hair. It’s cotton candy pink, same as it had been when he and Junseo had been together.

“That sounds right,” Doyoung says. “But like I said, it’s dark out. I couldn’t exactly point him out in a lineup.”

Junseo kicks the deflated tire. _“Fuck!_ I think I know who that asshole is.”

“Someone I should be worried about?”

Taeyong is glad Doyoung asks, because it’s becoming clearer that Taeyong isn’t the one he’s describing. A strange pit sets in his gut.

“An old coworker. He’s too much of a coward to show his face again, I bet. Bastard.” Junseo’s back to pacing. “Fuck! I need to make a call. Let me know if you see anyone else come by, okay?”

“Sure.”

Taeyong watches the legs jog down the street and hears Junseo’s voice bark something into the phone, sound fading as he gets far enough away.

After what feels like a minute Doyoung peeks his head through the bush, smile as bright as Taeyong’s seen it yet. “He’s gone.” 

“Thank you,” Taeyong says. As much as it’s the truth, there’s something hollow to it. He sits up, clears his throat and tries again. “Honestly. I really appreciate it.”

Doyoung clearly takes note of the tone as well, judging by how his face falls. Slowly, he pushes his way into the bush and settles down on the ground beside Taeyong.

“Are you okay? He doesn’t suspect you at all.” Doyoung’s brows are pulled tightly together. “I thought you’d be happier.”

Taeyong had thought so too, but there’s still a melancholy kind of feeling hanging over his head.

“I think that’s why.”

“What do you mean?”

He hadn’t totally understood the reason he was upset before, but the more Taeyong thinks about it the more he understands the weird feeling settling in his stomach.

“I guess in my mind I had built up this scenario where he’d find out about me slashing his tires and call to yell at me, or something. I mean, we’d been dating for about eight months before we broke up, and I literally walked in on him having sex with somebody else.” Taeyong turns to face Doyoung. “If I wasn’t the first person on his list of suspects after all that, how much could he have really cared about me?”

Doyoung doesn’t respond right away, but his face is crumpled up in concern. It makes Taeyong feel worse because he should feel grateful to Doyoung right now, and instead he mostly feels like he wants to cry.

“I’m sorry,” Doyoung says after a minute. “I didn’t think about it that way.”

Taeyong shakes his head. “It’s fine. It’s not like I didn’t know what I was getting myself into when I started dating him.”

Doyoung shakes his head. “Don’t say that.” 

“Why? It’s the truth.” Taeyong thinks back to when the two of them had first met at a classmate’s house party, the way the tension had been there right at the beginning and the way that had shifted over time to tension of a different sort. “He didn’t have the best reputation to begin with and I knew that. I guess I thought I was special enough to be the exception, or something. That was dumb of me. Just—he was good at giving me attention, and sometimes that was enough. At the beginning at least.” Taeyong ducks his head and laughs humorlessly. “Sorry. I guess I’m still drunk.”

“It’s not stupid.” Doyoung says, more earnest than Taeyong’s heard him all night. “Seriously. Nobody expects to get cheated on. You’re not stupid for trusting your boyfriend to be faithful.”

Taeyong smiles softly. “Thanks, Doyoung.”

More so than Doyoung’s words of comfort, Taeyong finds that just Doyoung’s presence is enough to make him feel at ease. If seeing Junseo tonight reopened a wound, then Doyoung was the band-aid.

“I didn’t know, by the way.”

Doyoung’s voice pulls him from his thoughts. Taeyong stares, wondering if he’d missed something while spacing out. “What?”

“That he was cheating,” Doyoung says, face serious. “I would’ve told you if I’d known.”

Truthfully, Taeyong hadn’t even considered that possibility. If Taeyong has learned anything tonight it’s that there’s an earnestness to Doyoung, hidden under layers of sarcasm and feigned indifference.

“I know,” Taeyong says, turning a soft smile to Doyoung. “But I appreciate you telling me anyway. Like I said, I kind of knew he was an ass, deep down. And I’m not even that upset anymore. Just feel dumb caring this much about someone who doesn’t— _didn’t_ —care about me at all.”

The corner of Doyoung’s lip pulls up slightly. “If I had to choose the dumb one in your relationship I’d choose the guy failing Statistics 100.”

Taeyong’s head snaps up. “God, is he really?”

“Yeah,” Doyoung says, nodding. “I heard him complaining about it on the phone with a friend. He didn’t get that internship he wanted either, in case he didn’t tell you. He found out a few months back.”

“Fuck, I knew it,” Taeyong says, laughing giddily. “He was being so evasive about it. What a dumbass.”

“Exactly,” Doyoung says. Then he leans over, flicking Taeyong’s cowboy hat up from his face with his index finger. “So chin up, cowboy. He’s not worth it.”

Taeyong turns his head away before Doyoung can see him blush. There’s a giddy sort of energy flowing through him now, though, and he can’t help but look back.

“Thanks for tonight,” he says. “I meant that when I said it before. It’s been a rough month and this has been the indisputable highlight of it.”

Doyoung shrugs. “It’s not like I didn’t have a stake in it, too. But if it makes you feel any better, I always thought you were too good for him anyway. He’s a six at best and you’re…” Doyoung trails off, averting his eyes.

Taeyong grins. “I’m what?”

“Nothing,” Doyoung mutters.

“No, tell me,” Taeyong needles, affecting a pout. “I still need to be cheered up.”

Doyoung’s ears turn pink. “You don’t need to hear me say it.”

“Say what?”

“You know,” Doyoung says, waving a hand and still not making eye contact. “That you’re not ugly, or whatever.”

“That I’m not ugly,” Taeyong repeats. “You can just say what you mean, you know. It won’t kill you.”

Doyoung’s face is pained. “It will kill me. It will literally, physically kill me.”

Taeyong hums thoughtfully. “Alright, I won’t make you say it. I don’t want you dead, I guess.”

A small smile tugs at Doyoung’s lips. “You sure know how to flatter a guy.”

“Coming from you?” Taeyong laughs, flopping down onto his back on the ground. “We’re idiots.”

Doyoung cracks a smile and leans back with him. “Yeah.”

Taeyong turns his head to face Doyoung’s profile. His profile is just as sharp as it always looks, but there’s also something soft about his expression that Taeyong hasn’t noticed before. His cheeks look like they would feel soft to touch.

Taeyong finds himself caught up in the mood. “Who would’ve thought that under all that sarcasm you’re actually surprisingly nice.”

“I contain multitudes,” Doyoung deadpans, but he cracks a smile right after.

The energy is contagious, or at least that’s what Taeyong blames for what he says next. “We should do this again sometime.”

Doyoung looks at him consideringly. “What, vandalism?”

Taeyong laughs. “No. Hanging out.”

“Damn. I was hoping you would say vandalism.”

The soft sarcasm fills Taeyong with a rush of warmth and before he can think better of it, he reaches for Doyoung’s cheek. The reality of the situation only hits him when their skin makes contact and he immediately draws his fingers back. Doyoung is staring at him with wide eyes.

“Uh, you had some dirt on your cheek,” Taeyong lies.

Doyoung’s hand comes up to feel his skin. “Dirt, huh?”

Taeyong flushes. “Yeah, dirt. What else would I be doing?”

Doyoung’s eyes are half-lidded. “You tell me.”

It’s almost certainly an invitation and Taeyong considers it carefully. After stealing a switchblade and slashing tires, kissing his ex-boyfriend’s roommate would not be the worst thing he’s done tonight.

“You know what? Fuck it,” Taeyong says, and then he’s leaning in.

Taeyong’s first kiss with Junseo was surprisingly tender, given how uncaring he ended up being at the end of their relationship. This is nothing like that. From the moment their mouths meet Doyoung’s hands tug Taeyong’s hair and pull him closer, dislodging his cowboy hat onto the dirt somewhere behind him. It barely even registers to Taeyong, who’s much more caught up in the way that Doyoung is softly working his mouth open with his tongue.

It’s been a month since Taeyong has kissed anybody and longer then since he’s kissed anybody besides Junseo. It’s refreshing to remember how fun it can be to learn somebody new. Doyoung kisses exactly like he acts—a playful give-and-take, never letting Taeyong get too used to any angle before trying a new one.

Even when Doyoung rolls over onto Taeyong to get into a better position it’s the exact right amount of forceful, not too soft and not too harsh. Taeyong’s fingers dig into Doyoung’s hips, thumbs pressing into the hot skin of his hips where his shirt has ridden up.

Doyoung’s the one who pulls back first, looking down at Taeyong with a softly dazed look.

“This isn’t some crazy adrenaline thing, right?” he asks, panting slightly. The pink looks nice on his cheeks. “You’re not gonna, like, wake up tomorrow and turn yourself into the police listing me as an accomplice or something?”

Taeyong laughs quietly. “Not unless Junseo grows a heart in the next eight hours.”

Doyoung grins. “So, not likely?”

“I was serious when I said I wanted to hang out.” Taeyong runs his fingers up Doyoung’s shirt to fix his collar.

“Oh, is that what the kids are calling it these days?” Doyoung asks, and then he leans back down to lick into Taeyong’s mouth.

It’s hard to kiss somebody through laughter, and Taeyong turns his head before he accidentally bites Doyoung’s lip.

“Okay,” he says, sitting up. “As much as I’ve enjoyed doing this, I think I’m going to need a chiropractor if we keep lying on the dirt like this.”

Doyoung nods reluctantly. “I would offer up my place, but…”

“Yeah, let’s not,” Taeyong agrees. It feels odd to call things off here, and Taeyong can tell that Doyoung feels the same. They stare at each other for a long moment before Taeyong sighs. “Give me your phone.”

There’s always something intimate about entering your contact info into someone else’s phone. He hands the phone back to Doyoung, fingers brushing as they exchange it.

Doyoung peers at the screen. “You forgot something.” Taeyong watches him insert the cowboy emoji next to his name before smirking.

Taeyong rolls his eyes. “Do you want me to call you or not?”

“I have a feeling you will anyway.”

Doyoung steps out of the bush first to make sure the coast is clear. He leads Taeyong out by the hand, carefully plucking the leaves that had gotten into Taeyong’s hair from rolling on the ground. Once he’s done, he places the crumpled cowboy hat back on Taeyong’s head.

“So,” Doyoung drawls. “I’ll see you around, cowboy?”

It feels like closure, and like new beginnings.

It must be after 3 a.m. when Taeyong finally makes it home. He unlocks the door carefully, trying to make sure he doesn’t wake Johnny up. He shouldn’t have bothered, because as soon as Taeyong slips off his shoes at the entrance a light turns on. Sitting on the couch with his legs crossed and back comically straight is Johnny.

“So,” Johnny says. “Taeyong. I’m here to talk to you about crime.”

Taeyong stares at him, mouth open in shock. “Oh my god.” 

Johnny uncrosses and re-crosses his legs, folding his hands neatly over his knee like a primary school teacher about to lecture him. “Jaehyun and I had a chat after you left the party. Did you really go slash your ex-boyfriend’s tires?”

Taeyong winces. “Yes, but—”

“Without me?” Johnny is pouting now, which is not a good look for him. “I would’ve helped you out.”

“In case you’ve forgotten, you ditched me as soon as the party started.” Taeyong points out.

Johnny heaves a sigh dramatically, leaning back into the couch cushions. “I can’t believe you would deprive me of the life of crime you know I’ve always wanted.”

“Well, it worked out in the end for me.” Taeyong rolls his eyes and starts walking towards his room. “Anyway, if you’re done with the lecture, I’m just going to go sleep.”

“Fine, I guess you—wait!” Taeyong freezes. He turns his head to see Johnny pointing at him in horror. “Your face is flushed, your lips are swollen, and your shirt is missing a button.”

Taeyong glances down and, sure enough, the top button of his shirt is missing. Flustered, he holds the collar together tightly. “What the hell? Are you Sherlock Holmes or something?”

“Oh my god!” Johnny yells. “Lee Taeyong, if you just hooked up with your asshole of an ex-boyfriend I swear to god—”

“No!” Taeyong shouts, letting go of his shirt in favor of waving his arms defensively. “This wasn’t him!”

Johnny looks even more betrayed for some reason. “Who was it then?”

“His roommate.”

And with that, Taeyong shoves his cowboy hat over Johnny’s head, and heads off to bed for some well-earned sleep. It doesn’t hurt that when he’s finished washing his face there’s a text waiting for him on his phone.

_he cried lol. ill send pics tomorrow_

Smiling, Taeyong tucks his copy of _The Notebook_ back into the DVD sleeve and zips it up. For the first time in a while, life is pretty good.

**Author's Note:**

> edit: now that reveals are public...thank u all for the funniest comments i've ever recieved on a fic! i've been dying to reply to them all. everyone replying "yeehaw" was killing me because that was my working title for this fic before i settled on this one dhsjakdhs. this was my first nct fic so ty for the nice words :')


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